Chapter 2

Damon told me he would be leaving the pack territory for a few days on a business trip.

“Only a couple of days,” he had said, brushing a kiss against my forehead with the tenderness of the devoted mate he had pretended to be for five years. “I will miss you.”

I smiled and watched him leave, pretending that his absence saddened me. The moment his scent faded beyond the estate, however, I returned to the study and began putting my plan into motion.

For the past several days, I had quietly observed Damon’s habits, paying close attention to the places where he kept the things he valued most. I knew he had always been careful about protecting his secrets, but even the most cautious Alpha could become careless when he believed his mate trusted him completely.

It did not take long to find the hidden safe behind an old painting in his study.

The combination was even easier.

Selene Ravenwood’s birthday.

My fingers barely trembled as I turned the dial. On the first attempt, I heard the quiet click of the lock releasing.

Inside, everything had been arranged with almost obsessive precision.

The first documents I found came from the pack hospital: agreements concerning organ donation, records from the surgery, and the authorization bearing Damon’s seal that proved he had ordered my mother’s organ to be given to Selene’s sister.

My vision blurred as tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced myself to keep reading.

There were also records of gold transfers and payments made to Adrian Ashford, my former fiancé. The documents described them as business transactions, yet I knew now that there was nothing innocent about them.

My hands trembled as I went through the rest of the records.

Jewelry. Rare fabrics. Expensive gifts. Even arrangements for journeys to distant territories.

Damon had disguised them as business expenses, but every gift had been meant for Selene.

Then I found another bundle of receipts, this one bearing my name.

Necklaces, rings, gowns, and other gifts Damon had given me throughout our marriage were listed there. For years, I had believed those things were proof of his affection, and I had even felt guilty sometimes for accepting such extravagant gifts.

Now I understood the truth.

Compared with what he had spent on Selene, what he had given me was insignificant.

The realization cut deeper than I expected.

He had never loved me.

I had merely been the convenient wife who occupied his side while his heart remained with another female, a placeholder he could keep beside him while protecting the woman he truly cherished.

I lowered myself onto the floor, surrounded by five years of lies, and for a moment I could no longer hold back my tears.

Then my wolf stirred within me.

Do not give them your tears, Elara.

I closed my eyes and drew a slow breath, allowing the familiar warmth of the bond to steady me.

You are stronger than this.

I wiped my cheeks and reached for my phone, but the moment my fingers touched it, I stopped.

There was no need to rely on such a thing.

Instead, I pulled a small enchanted memory stone from my satchel, one commonly used by pack healers and scribes to preserve written records. I placed it over the documents one by one, allowing its magic to capture every seal, signature, transaction, and receipt exactly as they appeared.

The evidence would remain safe even if Damon discovered the originals were missing.

At the very bottom of the safe, I found another folder marked Future Assets.

Inside were property deeds, investment agreements, insurance contracts, and plans concerning several territories and businesses under Damon’s name. I studied each document carefully before preserving copies of them with the memory stone.

When I had everything I needed, I returned every paper to its proper place and closed the safe. I even straightened the painting exactly as I had found it.

Damon would not know I had been there.

Not yet.

I left the estate before dusk and went directly to the office of the pack’s legal adviser.

“Mrs. Whitecastle?” The old lawyer rose from his chair when I entered without an appointment, surprise flashing across his face. “I was not expecting you.”

“I need a divorce agreement prepared.”

His expression changed immediately.

“Does Alpha Whitecastle know about this?”

“No,” I replied calmly. “And I want to keep it that way for the time being.”

He studied my face for several moments, clearly searching for an explanation, but I gave him none. At last, he opened one of the drawers beneath his desk.

“We already have a standard agreement prepared. I only need your signature and a few details.”

He placed the parchment before me.

I read every clause carefully, then took the quill and signed my name at the bottom without hesitation.

“Send it to him after I have left,” I instructed. “Not before.”

“After you have left?” he repeated, his brow furrowing. “Mrs. Whitecastle, what exactly are you planning?”

I folded the agreement and rose from my chair.

“You will know soon enough.”

I left before he could ask anything else.

My next destination was a place few respectable members of the packs would ever admit existed.

It was hidden beneath an abandoned tavern on the edge of the territory, far from the great pack houses and the watchful eyes of the Alpha Council. The entrance was concealed behind a weathered wooden door, and no sign marked the narrow passage leading underground.

This was where I had been told to go.

An underground network that specialized in helping wolves disappear.

When I pushed open the door, the stale smell of smoke and damp parchment greeted me. A male sitting behind the counter lifted his head, his face half-hidden beneath the hood of his cloak.

“You are lost,” he said.

“No,” I answered, meeting his gaze. “I came because I need your services.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked me over.

“What kind of services?”

“I want to disappear.”

For the first time, the amusement left his face.

“Disappear?”

“Completely.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me as though trying to determine whether I understood the weight of what I was asking.

“You know what happens to wolves who disappear from their pack without a trace?”

“Yes.”

“And you still want this?”

I reached into my bag and placed a heavy pouch of gold on the counter.

His gaze dropped to it, and a slow smile appeared.

“Well,” he murmured, “that certainly makes your intentions clearer.”

He opened the pouch, examined the gold, and then motioned for me to follow him.

We passed through another door into a hidden chamber beneath the tavern. Maps covered the walls, along with false pack records, forged seals, and documents bearing the names of wolves who had supposedly died years ago.

“This is how we work,” he explained. “We can arrange a death convincing enough to satisfy the pack healers and the Alpha Council. A hunting accident, a fall, a drowning—whatever best suits the circumstances. Once the death is accepted, we give you a new name, a new pack, and a new identity.”

I remained silent.

“No one will know where you went,” he continued. “Not your family, not your husband, not even the wolves who share your blood.”

I looked at him steadily.

“I do not want anyone to find me.”

His smile faded as he realized I was not speaking out of anger alone.

“I want my death to appear deliberate,” I said. “It must be convincing enough that no one will question it, and there must be no trace leading back to me.”

He studied me for a long moment before placing a sheet of parchment on the table.

“Then write down everything we need to know.”

I picked up the quill.

My hand was steady as I began to write.

For five years, Damon Whitecastle had believed he held the power to decide my fate.

He was about to learn how wrong he had been.